The Guangdong Acrobatic Troupe of China was established in 1951, and since then has performed all over the world. The UK first saw the company's extraordinary version of Swan Lake three years ago, by which point it was already a YouTube sensation. The idea of creating a full-length acrobatic work to Tchaikovsky's score came about when two of the company's performers, Wei Baohua and his wife Wu Zhengdan, made a piece called Oriental Swan Ballet on Top of Head. This routine, in which she balances on pointe first on his shoulder and then, unbelievably, on his head, won the couple huge acclaim, and became the climax of the present production. Only Wei and Wu have the skill and strength to execute the sequence, and in consequence have done so at every one of the 150-odd performances of Swan Lake.

The production's choreographer and director is Zhao Ming, a graduate of the Beijing Dance Academy. He has conceived the work as a quest, in which the Prince (Wei) has a dream of the Swan Princess (Wu) and pursues his vision across a world full of bizarre marvels. Trapeze artists fly between poles on board a storm-tossed ship, acrobats go whirling past in giant wheels, and a scarlet-clad corps de ballet performs a hat-dance of fiendish complexity, culminating in a tongue-in-cheek series of fouettés. There's an especially delicious moment when, to the Big Swans music, the corps shimmy in on roller skates, dressed in long tulle skirts as if for Les Sylphides.

Nothing, however, impresses the lovesick Prince, who indicates these wonders with the distracted, world-weary air of a 19th-century Romantic hero. At one point, in a sly reference to the 1862 Petipa ballet The Pharaoh's Daughter, we catch sight of him on a camel, passing the Sphinx. It's a dazzlingly camp scene, with chiffon-clad lovelies writhing and juggling golden balls in the desert foreground, but the Prince's eyes have no time for the things of this world, and his face is etched with noble melancholy.

There's huge fun to be had in the contrast between Wei's angsty posturing and the knowing smiles and contemporary slickness of the ensemble. The exquisite and steely Wu is similarly unsmiling, and every inch the tragic heroine. Our first extended sight of her is when she's teetering along a tightrope on pointe, pursued by monkeys. There's no synopsis in the programme, so this particular subplot is never explained, but we do not question it, any more than we question why the court of the evil wizard Black Eagle (Chen Dong) should be staffed by unicyclists.

Not everything works perfectly. The cygnets, played by men in drag, are fairly inane (the Trocks do it much better). The straight ballet sections are a bit shaky. But overall you're enjoying yourself too much to care. Is any of it art? I doubt it, but then again, who cares? It's fabulous entertainment, and you can't always say that about Swan Lake.